


It Was Just Like a Movie

by stylesforstiles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, and a bit of Paris, ghosts and stuff, starring Harry Louis Niall and Liam, they all have jobs in varying professions, this all sounds really shady but its actually fluffy, with a brief side Zayn mention, wonderfully sappy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5973793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesforstiles/pseuds/stylesforstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A psychologist walks into a bar and what sounds like the beginning of a joke, isn't</p><p>AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Just Like a Movie

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Adele’s ‘When We Were Young’ because I saw a Harry and Louis video set to it, and it inspired me yet simultaneously ruined my life. 
> 
> This is all fiction, I have an obsession with Harry and Louis in Paris, and also graveyards, apparently.
> 
> Happy Valentines Day ♥

"And then I said "you think I'm going to drink a Guinness that you poured in less than 20 seconds?" The fucking nerve of this guy, I swear. I tweeted the bar too, so I probably shouldn’t go back there for a while,”

Louis pushed his glasses up with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. "Niall, as much as I love to hear about the woes of your everyday rock star life, I do have a real patient in about 10 minutes."

Niall rolled onto his side. "Excuse you, I’m not a rock star; I'm a sensitive soul who plays guitar and pulls at your heart strings,"

"Why are you describing yourself as Ed Sheeran?"

Niall scoffed, swinging his feet to the plush carpet. "He stole that from me."

Louis stood up and stretched his arms to the ceiling, rolling his eyes. "He literally did not, as you _are in_ a rock band, and Ed told me you called him that in a drunken stupor and he laughed for three days straight."

"Ed's a wanker." He copied Louis' stretch, bouncing up and down on his toes. "Anyways, are you coming to the show on Saturday? The after party is gonna be crackin," 

As long as Louis Tomlinson had known Niall Horan - which was since they were in primary school together - he'd been boasting about his crackin’ after parties. And he had always lived up to it, even before he was a member of one of the biggest bands in the world. Niall had always been special; he was the life of the party, the guy in school everyone got along with, and a multi-talented little shit to top it all off. 

Louis couldn't have been more proud of him. 

"Of course I'll be there, I may be a bit late; I have to meet with the editor of that newspaper that wants me to do a weekly column.”

While Niall was off playing gigs in dank uni pubs and the dive bars of America, Louis studied psychology and human behavior, because everyone around him was just a little bit crazy (in the very best way), and he had always been curious of the how's and why's that make someone unique.

Niall snapped his fingers, "Oh that’s right! What's the first story going to be?"

Louis smirked, tapping his chin. "I was thinking 'people who steal other people’s identities and how it affects their everyday lives.' Do you think Ed will be around on Saturday for a chat?"

Niall threw up a middle finger, sticking his tongue out. "You're so cute." He reached for the door, blowing him a kiss. "Toodles.”

Louis waved him off, "Bye."

He sat down at his desk, laughing to himself. 

His friends really were crazy. 

*

True to form, because Louis was habitually late even without the excuse of a successful meeting where he was offered 4 pounds a word, he arrived just in time to catch the last couple of songs. 

Niall was in his element onstage; the guitar looked like a second skin on him in front of a raucous crowd chanting his name. That, combined with the sweat dripping off his face and the beer he snuck a sip from off stage, made him the raddest rock star in Louis' eyes. 

After the show Louis was hustled backstage and watched as Niall schmoozed with London’s elite crowd of models and wannabe musicians, before being hustled into a limo and whisked off to a dimly lit lounge with gaudy interior decorating, free flowing drinks, and an even larger crew of movers and shakers that were famous in their own minds.

He stood at the bar and took in the pulsing crowd, wondering if Niall actually knew all of these people. He'd gather he probably did; his social butterfly status had only flourished with his stardom. It all seemed like a dream to him, but after hearing someone next to him say ‘underground mod music scene’ he was learning more towards nightmare.

He lifted the long neck beer bottle to his lips to take a sip, only to sputter it out when Niall knocked into him.

"Oh, Lou, there you are!" He wrapped his fingers around his wrist, tugging him towards a man who had his back turned to them. "Come meet my friend Harry,"

Niall tapped him on the shoulder while Louis tried to mask the splatter of beer on his white t shirt. He was not a fan of sloppy first impressions.

Harry brightened, a delighted laugh leaving his lips, "Niall! Amazing show mate, thank you so much for inviting me," he pulled him into a hug, closing his eyes when he pat his back. 

Niall picked him up, squeezing him tightly, which had Harry giggling and kicking his skinny jean clad legs out in protest. He finally set him down, spinning him around towards Louis, "This is Louis, he's my bestie."

Louis clasped his hand, slowly drinking him in. "I've known Niall almost my whole life and this is the first I've ever heard of a Harry," An attractive, tall, sinful lipped man named Harry, he thought to himself. 

Harry's hand was surprisingly soft, as was the smile he gave Louis. “Harry Styles.” Louis shook his head, still unfamiliar. “We met through work, but this is my first show in quite a long time.”

"Oh really? What do you do?"

Harry rocked back and forth on his feet, accepting the drink Niall passed to him. "I work at a funeral home."

"Oh." 

Louis scratched his chin trying to recall a time Niall would have been in one.

Niall whipped his head back and forth between them, an unreadable look on his usually easily readable face. "Harry can speak to ghosts,"

Louis sputtered on his beer for the second time in ten minutes. "Oh...okay."

Niall smacked him on the back, "Gotta run, there's that fucker Ed," 

Louis stood there blinking at his disappearing news boy capped head before turning back to Harry, blinking at him. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who works at a funeral home."

He shrugged, sipping his drink. "Someone has to do it,"

Louis coughed, dragging a hand through his hair. "And what...exactly is it that you do?"

"I'm the hair and makeup team, so to speak. Among other things,"

"Oh—that's—a job, yeah." Louis downed the rest of his beer in lieu of being at a loss for words.

Harry laughed. "You seem really put off by this,"

Louis waved his hands in front of him, "No, no! I've just never met anyone in this occupation, let alone someone who talks so nonchalantly about it."

"Why, what do you do?"

"I'm a psychologist."

A smile spread across his face. "Well, isn't this quite the meet cute."

Louis felt his cheeks warm up, rolling his eyes. "I think you've got the wrong term."

"I know what it means. What's cuter than a psychologist running into a guy who talks to ghosts? There's a movie idea in here somewhere,"

Louis looked at him pointedly. "Are you being serious?"

He placed a hand over his heart. "I would never joke about a potential romantic comedy idea."

Louis chuckled. Were they flirting? He wasn't sure. But he could definitely play along. 

He stepped in closer, leaning on the railing. "Come on, give me a real answer. The doctor in me needs to analyze you."

Harry turned towards him, a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. He was much too charming for his own good. 

"Nah, I can't give all my secrets away just yet, we've only just met."

Louis had to give it to him; he was intrigued, and maybe just a tiny bit interested.

"How about this instead; I interview you for a column I'm going to be writing,"

"About what?”

Louis drew his hands in the air for emphasis, "Something like 'can some of us speak to the dead? An introspective look on chatting with ghosts.” Louis cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Harry drew his eyes over his face, thoughtful. "Alright, meet me at the [Old Queens Head pub](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Old_Queens_Head) on Tuesday. Say sevenish?"

Louis crossed his arms, cocking a hip to the side. "It's not a date, Harry,"

Louis, of course, was lying. He wanted it to be a date, but he needed to keep some semblance of professional control.

"I know." Harry tapped his glass against Louis' bottle, turning to blend back into the sea of unfamiliar faces. 

But Louis felt the strangest twinge of familiarity in the back of his mind as he watched him walk away.

*

The next night Louis found himself at his mate Liam’s flat, seeking a free meal and some guidance. 

He had met Liam during uni when they both worked at the campus pizza parlour, and to this day it was the only thing Louis had ever mastered making. Liam however went on to master all kinds of culinary creations and now owned one of the hottest new restaurants in London with his partner, Zayn.

He took the plates from Liam and set them on the table, pulling out one of the leather chairs that probably cost more than his first car. He waited patiently as Liam placed a perfectly cooked steak and steaming pile of garlic mash in front of him. Louis could cry once he cut into it, the tender meat like butter in his mouth.

He swallowed and immediately cut another piece, pointing his knife at Liam. "Have you ever met Niall's friend Harry?” He motioned to the ceiling with his knife, “Tall, long curly hair. Works in a funeral home?”

Liam pursed his lips, shaking his head, "No, I don’t think so, but Zayn would remember better than I do. And a funeral home, really?” Louis chewed slowly, humming noncommittally. Liam glanced up at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I met him at the after party last night. He's...different,” Liam ‘oohed’, gesturing for him to continue, “And charming. And attractive,"

Liam frowned, leaning back in his chair. "So, what's the problem?”                                                

Louis placed his cutlery down, toying with the stem of his wine glass. "I'm going to interview him for one of the columns I'm writing,"

"Okay, and?" 

"Do you think it's bad that I'm interested in him?"

"No, why would it be?"

Louis picked up the glass, swirling the wine for affect. "Because I'm writing about him,"

Liam picked up his own glass, tilting his head with a shrug, "Yeah, but it’s for free-lance work. He's not your patient."

"Hmm, I guess that's true." He took a sip of the tangy red, wiggling his brows at Liam. "Though I'd love to examine him,"

Liam groaned, covering his eyes. "Good god, are you twelve?”

He shrugged, "It was right there for the taking, you set it up."

"I did walk into that one, didn't I?" Louis nodded solemnly. "Whatever. Just make sure he's fully aware of what you're writing about him."

Louis snorted. "Oh my god Liam, this isn't 27 Dresses and I'm exposing him as always a bridesmaid and never a bride." Louis had a sudden thought, hand slamming on the table. "Wait, what if he's married? He said he knew it wasn't a date. Fucking hell, my column after this will have to be 'the psychologist that can't read between the lines'."

Liam topped off their wine, passing over his phone. "Or, you could just text Niall and ask him."

"Oh…right."

Liam shook his head, stabbing a spear of asparagus, "So bloody dramatic."

Louis threw a crouton at his head before typing his message out. 

  - hey, so is Harry married 

  - the Harry I met last night 

Since Niall was always permanently attached to his phone for band emergencies and party invites, he responded right away.

  - dunno actually, he wears way too many rings

  - he loves the word spouse tho

Louis grit his teeth, punching out the next message.

  - what kind of answer is this

Niall sent 4 kissing emojis back as what Louis guessed was his final reply.

Louis sighed, throwing his phone behind his back, “Good for nothing that one, at least you feed me.”

…

Liam, true to form, packed him up a doggie bag with his famous second day [steak sandwich](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwu2y9x5OlM) as good luck.

At least one of his friends was useful in these confusing times.

*

Louis had been too preoccupied with work to follow up on any Harry inquiries over the course of the next two days, so he would be going into the dinner blind, and he hated that feeling of being unprepared. He knew that it was partially for work, but the better part of him was entirely too curious about Harry's romantic status. 

He jogged up to the pub and for once he was punctual, which he silently congratulated himself on as he pulled the heavy oak door open. 

He stepped in and blew on his hands, rubbing them together as he scanned the cozy room, his eyes searching for Harry's most identifiable feature - those gorgeous curls - when he landed on a blue beanie that was sadly hiding most of them away.

He walked over to the snug corner table, waving for Harry to sit down when he stood up to greet him. 

"Louis, you made it. Good to see you."

He sat down across from him, easing his coat off his shoulders, "You as well." 

He quickly eyed Harry’s hands, noting that there were no rings. Which meant that Niall was pulling his leg on purpose, Harry took them off for the night, or Niall was an arsehole. He thinks it could be a possible a mix of all three.

Louis twisted in his seat, peering around the room. "Doesn't look very haunted to me,"

Harry lifted an eyebrow. Louis laughed, reaching for the glass of water in front of him. "I’m just sharing my honest, non-expert opinion."

Harry slid a beer towards him, which earned him his own eyebrow. He just smiled, toying absently with one of the longer curls sitting near his collarbone. Louis had to add polite to Harry’s list of good traits. "This isn't the original building, but spirits aren't picky. It's about the sentiment of the place, not so much the structure."

Louis held up a finger, “Hold on, one sec," he reached into his bag and rummaged around, pulling a recorder out and placing it on the table. "I'm going to record this, if that's alright?"

Harry nodded. "Of course, but are you sure you'll be able to hear clearly enough?"

"Harry, it's not exactly loud enough to wake the dead in here,"

The laugh he let out was entirely too loud and would have certainly woken a few slumbering spirits. "Ha! Very punny."

"I have my moments." He pressed play and sat back, clasping his hands together in his lap. "So, how did you get into your line of work?"

Harry took a sip of his beer, wiping the creamy foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. "Right to business, hey?" He splayed a hand on the table, picking at the sodden edges of the coaster housing his beer. "I always had a fascination with death, and I don't mean that in the morbid way that it sounds. Shocking as it may be, I never went through an emo stage in my teenage years,"

Louis gasped, "No! You mean to tell me you never locked yourself in your room, painting your nails black while listening to Morrissey on repeat?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder up, "I pull off Chanel vamp much better than black."

Louis' eyes wandered over to the coat hanging on the rack near their table. "I can see it. Goes well with the Saint Laurent," He picked up his glass, tipping it towards Harry, "fanciest funeral director in town I would say."

“You could say.” Harry looked at him; silently trailing his eyes over Louis’ face and seemingly taking in each detail. It was unnerving, but Louis refused to squirm. 

Harry held his gaze for another moment, before starting back up again. "Anyways, it wasn't a fascination about death so much, but really, what it all means. What happens after? Where do we go?" And then one day I came to realize some of us don't go anywhere."

Louis leaned onto his elbows, shuffling his body forward. "So you saw a ghost. Was it at work?"

"Mmm hmm, really early on when I had started. I was in the office filling out some paper work and I felt the air shift; every hair on my body stood up,"

Louis felt the very same thing happen to him when those words left Harry’s mouth.

He nodded for Harry to continue. 

"I looked up, and there was this man standing in the doorway. I asked him if he needed help and he said to tell his family he was okay, that he loved them, and that they would be fine without him. And then he disappeared."

Louis blew out a breathy laugh. "Wow."

Harry coughed into his fist, picking up his glass. "Good wow or bad wow?"

"It's more of an 'I don't know' wow." Louis scratched the side of his neck, "I trust in science. I want a clear and mapped equation as to why things work,”

"But you work in a profession where you have to think outside of that box. There isn't an exact scientific explanation for how each of us copes with our everyday lives the way we do.”

Louis hummed in agreement. "I understand your point, and of course I don't apply that theory with patients, but that's how I, Louis, look at life."

Harry grinned, drumming his fingers on the table. "Okay, then in your ‘scientific opinion’, how would you diagnose me?"

Louis crossed his arms over his chest, "I charge by the hour, you know."

He thumbed at his jacket, “I can afford it.”

Louis chuckled, rubbing a finger against his lips, "Alright." He met Harry's eyes, holding them there. "You're single, a people pleaser by nature; because you enjoy the validation, but you also genuinely care. You're eccentric, funny, charming to a fault, kind, intuitive, but also maybe a little bit lost. You talk to people who aren't there to replace the people you wish were, if I were to guess," Louis brought his pint up to his lips, taking a long sip. He placed it back on the table, picking at the fading Guinness emblem. "How did I do?"

Harry's neutral face transformed into a sly smile, "You're good." He picked up the beer in front of him, peering at Louis over the rim. "Some of it was off though,"

Louis' heart pounded in his chest. Which part was off? He decided to bite the bullet. 

"Are you married?"

Harry shot him a funny look. “Why do you think I'm married?"

"I don't know."

Louis moved his glass away, scooting off his seat to find the bathroom.

He pushed open the door and walked over to the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink.

He looked at his wild eyes in the mirror. "Okay. Calm down. All this supernatural talk is getting to you."

"He’s single."

He spun around; his eyes ready to meet a green pair that probably needed answers after Louis had abruptly left for no good reason.

But he was only faced with the dingy, flyer covered wall.

He dragged a hand over his face, leaning against the counter.

" _Really_ getting to you, mate."

...

He crept back to the table and was relived to find that Harry looked seemingly unfazed by Louis’ antics. He peered at Louis with wide eyes, mid lick of a drop vinegar off his thumb.

"Is everything okay?"

Louis plucked a chip off the plate, sitting down next to Harry. He twisted to face him, the chip faltering in his hand. "I don’t want you to be married,”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I’m not?"

Louis shoved the chip in his mouth, swallowing roughly around it. 

The mystery voice in the bathroom...was it Harry after all?

"Thank god." 

Harry nudged his shoulder, his soft curls brushing Louis' cheek, "That's a bit rude,"

Louis laughed, reaching for the recorder, "Back on topic. Have any of the 'spirits' you've spoken to given you advice about your own life?"

"Yeah."

Louis glanced at him, "Anything you want to share?"

Harry shook his head. 

"Not yet."

*

Louis went home the night after their non-date even more confused than he was before he got there. 

The ghost stuff was the only thing that had actually made sense. 

He met up with Liam for brunch the next day, pushing his pile of pancakes around with a frown.

"I fucked it up. Why didn't I just ask if he was single like a normal person?"

Liam barked out a laugh. "Says the psychologist,"

Louis flicked a pile of powdered sugar at him. "The psychologist is supposed to be writing an article anyways. Why do I even care?"

"Lou, it's pretty obvious you care, you said you don't want him to be married."

Louis wanted to drown himself in the tiny cup of maple syrup. "Why the fuck did I say that?! How creepy can you be?"

Liam sat back, eyes dancing nervously. "Lou...are you...are you sure _you_ said that?"

"No, Li, it was _other_ creepy Louis.”

Liam grabbed his hand, steeling his eyes. "Listen, I googled some things, and sometimes,” he looked around, bringing his voice to a whisper, “ghosts say the things that you need to."

Louis slapped a hand over his mouth, "Liam Payne, are you saying a ghost made me do it?”

"Dunno, maybe?" he mumbled against his hand.

"Ugh, where is a rational person when we need them? Where's Zayn?"

Liam pushed his hand off his mouth, replacing it with his coffee. "He's in LA talking with investors for the branch we want to open there."

Louis softened. "That's amazing, Li."

"Thanks, we're pretty excited. I'd love to live there a few months out of the year."

Louis smacked his hand on the table, "First Niall, now you? You're all traitors to your heritage."

"You'll have Harry,"

Just as Louis was about to claim he most certainly does not, his phone starting ringing. Liam leaned over, poking Louis' thigh with a grin. "See?"

Louis briefly forgot they had exchanged numbers, because everything about their night had been an information overload.

"Hello?"

"Do you want to go to Paris this weekend?"

Louis nearly dropped his phone. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

Louis turned to look at Liam mouthing 'sorry' before stepping out onto the street. 

He held the phone back up to his ear, listening to Harry’s even breaths. "You must be joking,"

"If you want to talk ghosts, Paris is the city to do it,"

Louis clucked his tongue. "You mean the city of love? On Valentine's weekend,"

"Oh, is it Valentines?"

Louis couldn't quite tell if he was truly being oblivious or if he was trying to be slick. "It is."

"Oh, well if you have plans," He could visualize Harry gnawing on his bottom lip.

"I do now."

"Perfect!" He could also visualize the satisfied smile on those bitten lips. "I'm heading there later today, but I'll text you the details of where I'm staying. I can book you a room if you like?"

"Sure, that sounds great. I can be there around one on Saturday,"

"Cool."

"Cool."

Louis really needed to hang up before they ran out of adjectives for cool. 

"Well, I’ve got to get back to brunch, bye, Harry!!

He hung up before he heard Harry's cheery goodbye, slipping the phone into his back pocket. 

Liam raised his eyes from his own phone, curious. "What's up?"

"Oh you know, I just said yes to spending the alleged most romantic day of the year in Paris with a guy I would love to date, and he's also going to show me around a cemetery and tell me about his conversations with the dead. Just another average Saturday,"

Liam stared at for a good solid minute. He shook his head, sliding his phone over to Louis. "So Niall's in Australia?"

Louis tapped on one of the thumbnails, and there was Niall in all his bleached blonde glory, cheering in the stands at a tennis match. 

"Wasn't he just texting us pictures of his living room yesterday?"

"Maybe Niall's an apparition too,"

Louis sighed, stuffing a slice of pancake in his mouth, "Don't make me start questioning my sanity, Liam."

Liam chewed thoughtfully. "Niall would be an amazing ghost,"

Louis stilled, pursing his lips. "He is very pale,"

"And he moans and groans a lot,"

Louis tapped a message out to Niall. 

  - we came to the conclusion you're dead 

They signalled for the bill, waiting the typical 15 second Niall response time.

   - mate, I haven't been alive since the spice girls broke up

*

Louis always had a fondness for Paris. He smiled to himself as he stepped off the Metro, reminiscing about all the late nights he had spent with Niall wandering the streets, sharing a cigarette and their fears about getting older and declaring that as soon as they found someone who was worth it, they’d take them to Paris.

He shook off the memory, turning down the street that their hotel was on. “Okay subconscious, I hear you loud and clear.”

Now Louis may have been fond of Paris, but Paris seemed to _love_ Harry. There, outside the quaint [bed and breakfast](http://www.hoteldelavre.com/) he looked just like a movie. The slight breeze was blowing his long curls astray; the woolen coat covering his frame was hanging open to reveal his long legs in dark denim and a bright blue sweater that looked as soft and warm as him.

Maybe he didn’t believe in the afterlife, but could he be sure that Harry wasn’t some kind of earth angel?

Harry gave him a small little wave, "Bonjour! How was the trip, not too bad I hope?"

Louis shifted the backpack slung over his shoulder, shrugging. "Easy peasy, I slept a bit and worked on the first part of the article,"

Harry lit up, a spot of rose colouring his cheeks. "I don't know if I should be incredibly flattered or incredibly embarrassed that I gave you enough material in a few hours to almost finish your article."

"Some people will never be interesting enough to write about. Take it as a complement."

Harry cleared his throat, the rosy flush deepening. "Alright." He reached out a hand, indicating at Louis' bag, "Do you want me to run that in, or did you need to freshen up?"

Louis shook the bag off his shoulder passing over. "Yeah thanks, I'm good to go if you are. I'll ring us a cab."

Once Harry disappeared back inside, Louis pulled out his phone and turned the front camera on, checking his hair for the twentieth time in the last half hour. He had fixed it at the train station, changed into the most expensive jumper he has in his closet and slipped on the brand new pair of leather vans he bought for the occasion.

Yes, Louis Tomlinson was dressed to the nines to walk around in a graveyard with a man he just met (who also made his heart skip a beat), and said man was going to talk to ghosts. 

And there was no place he'd rather be. 

…

On the cab ride over, Louis chattered on about his favourite cafes, the best crepe he'd ever had, the time that Niall tried to buy a piece of art off the wall at the Louvre. But as soon as they stepped though the threshold of [Pere Lachaise](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P%C3%A8re_Lachaise_Cemetery), he felt an odd calm wash over him, urging him to be quiet. 

This was Harry's time to talk.

…Which lasted all of five minutes, because Louis was a talker by nature (and profession). 

"So, do you see anything?"

Harry side eyed him, a tiny smile forming on his mouth. "It doesn't work like that,"

"What? You mean Jim Morrison isn't floating above us right now telling you to break on through to the other side?"

Harry laughed. "I guess I'm halfway there, aren't I? Or at least a quarter of the way; I know there's another side that exists."

Their arms brushed together as they strolled, and Louis' fingers twitched when his pinky slid across the back of Harry's hand. The urge to hold onto him for whatever he was going to say next pulsed in in his veins. 

They stopped in front a wearily aged tomb, the stained glass chipped and faded with time. Harry drew a finger over the dates etched into the dusty stone.

"I suppose I’m just the messenger. I wish I could see the past and know the stories here; where they happy when they left? Where they loved?"

Louis trailed his eyes over Harry's profile, lips quirked. "You're a romantic,"

Harry faced him, bringing his hands up to Louis' shoulders. "Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love,"

Louis narrowed his eyes, "Did you just quote Moulin Rouge to me _in_ Paris?"

He dropped his hands, "It would have been a tragically lost opportunity if I didn't." He nodded over his shoulder, "Let's go see Oscar."

"Harry,"

"Yes?"

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I do."

Louis watched him turn away, his hair cascading down his back, honey highlights glowing in the mid-day winter sun, the slump of his shoulders making his own ache because Harry's posture was a nightmare, the black scuff in the back of his creamy suede boot standing out like a blemish on an unfinished canvas.

And when he turned around, raising an eyebrow at Louis with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, he felt it. 

Here, in the middle of a historical graveyard in the city of love, he had the rest of the story to finish his article. 

*

By the time they got out of the cemetery it was reaching dusk; Louis had sat off to the side jotting down notes in the tattered notebook he lugged around with him, watching as Harry snapped pictures of drooping trees and fallen angels. He hadn't realized how many hours had passed until his stomach told him otherwise.

They stumbled upon a cafe that had a red wine and spaghetti bolognese special, and sat for another few hours chatting idly about their family and friends, and arguing furtively about the ins and outs of the perfect ice cream flavour. 

It was simple and easy, and Louis felt warmth throughout himself that he'd never known could be there before.

The walk back was the same as dinner; simple conversation with an underlying need for something more. 

The moon was high in the sky with the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower lighting their way. 

Harry paused at the entrance of the park, pinching Louis' elbow to get his attention. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight,"

"Are you going to turn into a pumpkin or something?"

Harry shook his head, his hand lingering near Louis' arm. "No, but I think this may be a good time to tell you we're sharing a room."

Louis burst out laughing. Harry waved his hands hurriedly, "I promise I tried to get two, but they were sold out," he pinched Louis' elbow again to get him to stop laughing. "Seriously, there are two beds. Is that okay?"

Louis reached a hand up to brush a runaway curl off Harry's cheeks, "I'd love nothing more than to have a platonic sleepover on Valentine's eve with you, Harry Styles."

Harry threw his head back and cackled. 

...

They both fell asleep instantly after whispered goodnights.

It was the best sleep Louis had in ages. 

*

Louis blinked at the hazy morning light and focused on Harry's figure puttering around the room and right then he realized that perhaps he could believe in a higher power.

Because Harry was fully clothed. Miracles did happen.

He zipped up his bag and turned on his heel when he noticed Louis finally stirring.

"Ah, you're awake. Good sleep?"

Louis rubbed at his temple, mostly to get rid of the 'I would have slept better with you' voice in his head.

"Decent enough," He eyed Harry up and down, quirking an eyebrow, "Eager to leave?"

A deep frown spread across Harry's features, "What, of course not," He glanced down at his clothes and looked back at Louis' amused smile. "Ohh," He flushed a bit. Louis wanted his hands on every inch of his skin. "I was going to pop out and get us some things...for a bit of a picnic," he flushed a deeper pink, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. "We're in Paris on Valentine's,"

Louis sat up, glancing at the clock. "I've got a few more hours before I have to catch my train home," he rubbed his hands together, "Let's go be a cliché."

...

Louis could say eating baguettes and drinking red wine out of the bottle in Eiffel Tower Park was cheesy and a bit ridiculous, but why would he when Harry was wrapped in a cashmere scarf with [bright red lips](https://twitter.com/Burberry/status/697850135389335552) to match the color of his own, that Louis wanted to kiss until Harry was breathless. 

He passed Harry the bottle, falling back onto the blanket they nicked from the hotel with a sigh. He didn't want to leave.

"I don't want to leave."

Harry folded himself down beside him, leaning his head on his palm. "Really?" His face washed over with relief. "I'm so glad. I didn't really think this whole plan through; it’s funny, because you thought I was married for whatever reason, and then I invited you to Paris for the weekend, and I know this is for professional reasons but--"

Louis may have been analytical and factual and based his thought processes on scientific reasoning, but in the moment his lips touched Harry's, he understood what all those mythological books were saying about red strings of fate and glowing silver chords. 

He rolled Harry into his back, caressing the smooth line of his jaw, feeling the slow smile creep onto Harry's lips. 

"Took you long enough,"

_It felt like my whole life._

He slid his tongue past Harry's lips, tugging his hair to get the angle just right, and now that he knew the sweet sounds he could create with something so simple he needed to spend the rest of his life making a symphony out of it. 

Harry squeezed his hip, thumbing the warm skin hidden under the layers of cotton and wool. "This would have been a lot more convenient back at the hotel,"

Louis groaned, "The one time I really do have to get back to work. There must be a psychological term for cockblock."

Harry leaned up to steal another kiss, scratching his fingers down Louis' sides. "I'll be up north until late Friday night, but can you come by mine on Saturday? I'll cook,"

"You could pour me cereal and I'd be more than happy to come over, I don't care," he grasped a fistful of hair, pulling Harry back down. 

"We've got another half hour; let’s see how much making out we can do before we're told to get a room."

They made it to 10 minutes.

The rest of the time was spent feeding each other handmade chocolates. 

And five more minutes dedicated to kissing that off each other's lips as well. 

...

On the way back to his flat his phone chirped with a message from Harry; a picture of the two of them kissing under a cloudy winter sky with the caption "we're so Paris when we kiss"

Louis closed his eyes, leaning his head against his front door.

"I'm so done for."

*

The following week went by in a flash; between work and finishing up the article for Sunday's paper, he barely had time to breathe let alone think of being _alone_ with Harry. 

Liam had gone to LA to meet up with Zayn and Niall was still making his way around the world, so Louis had to email them both a copy of what he wrote for the final approval.

He could never tell with Niall, but he thought the seven crying emojis were a good sign, and Liam actually called him with real live tears, so he was feeling fairly confident by the time he pressed send. 

Now, it was finally Saturday and he was a mix of jitters and hormones. He wiped his clammy hands on his very tight jeans, adjusting the collar of his shirt once more before knocking on the door. 

A moment later Harry swung open the door and he was just as breathtaking as Louis had been fantasizing about all week. 

"Lou—"

Louis pushed him into the hallway, reaching down to grab his thighs. Harry gasped, but caught on quickly enough, wrapping his long legs around Louis' waist. 

Jitters be damned.

"Hello to you too,"

Louis nodded, dragging his lips along the vein straining against his neck. "Hi, now where's the bedroom?"

Harry wriggled in his arms, a desperate noise sounding out low in his throat. "Oh, _ah_ , but, the kitchen, I made, _ah_ , oh that feels good, fuck, ummm, _oh_ , I made tacos,"

Louis carried him down the hall and sat him on the countertop, clutching onto his thighs. He pressed a kiss to his lips, tucking his fingers into the waistband of Harry's jeans. "Harry, love, no offence but I really want to put your dick in my mouth. Can the tacos wait?"

Harry fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, nodding. 

"Fuck the tacos."

...

"I can't believe you said fuck the tacos; I _would_ fuck the tacos if I could, holy shit those were good."

Harry giggled, poking his toe into Louis' stomach. "Thank you…I think. Don't fuck my tacos though,"

Louis grabbed his ankle, bringing his toe up to his mouth to nip at it. "Maybe I have a taco kink, hmm,"

"And a foot fetish too it seems."

Louis dropped Harry's foot into his lap, rubbing the tender sole with his thumb, "No. I think it's just you."

Harry sunk lower into the cushions, humming as Louis massaged his fingers into his achy bones. "Oh that feels so good, they've been killing me all week; I've been standing for too many hours at a time. My doctor said I really shouldn't do that anymore,"

"I remember."

Harry's eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You do?"

"I'm a good listener; it's kind of my thing."

"Right."

Louis ran his fingers up Harry's calves, leaning over to reach for one of his hands that were clasped in his lap. Harry looked at him questioningly. 

"Do you ever feel like...like we met in another lifetime?"

Harry searched his eyes, that soft smile turning a hint brighter. "We've met in _this_ lifetime,"

Louis felt his throat go dry. "What?"

Harry bit his lip with a nod, "At one of Niall's shows. God, years ago," Louis blinked at him in awe. "We bumped into each other in the bathroom. I said 'oops', you said 'hi' and then you were pulled away by a group of friends. And that was it."

Louis gaped at him, shaking their clasped hands. "Why haven't you gone to any other shows?" 

_Why did you wait so long for me to find you again?_

Harry curled a finger at him to come in closer. His lips brushed Louis' ear, a puff of breath tickling his skin, "I'm not really a fan of their music."

Louis sat back and laughed, clutching his stomach. "Oh my god,"

"Don't you dare tell Niall!"

He doubled over in another laughing fit, falling onto Harry's chest. "I promise, babe. Your dirty little secret is safe with me."

Harry tipped his chin up. Louis met him halfway. Even though they'd kissed hundreds of times by now, Louis still couldn't get over how familiar Harry felt. _And how he could have been doing this for years_. They had a lot of time to make up for. 

He pet his hand through the mess of tangled curls on Harry's shoulders, peering up at him through his lashes. "So, we actually _did_ have the perfect meet cute,"

Harry grinned. "I told you."

"Why did you go to the show that night, then?"

Harry's eyes flickered to the corner of the room, meeting Louis' again seconds later. "I—just a feeling I had."

Louis knew it was more than that. But that was a story for another day. 

"Can I stay over?"

Harry slid farther down under he was fully underneath Louis, tugging him down to meet his parted lips.

"You can stay forever."

*

They woke up smiling at each other, which should have been sickening, but when Louis brought Harry's hand to his chest and felt the slow thump, almost in unison, nothing else mattered. 

He was the other half to his heart. That he was sure of.

Harry rolled on top of him, rubbing their noses together. "You're so beautiful like this,"

"Sleep deprived, with a week old beard with a mess of hair that I haven't cut in ages?"

Harry nuzzled up the side of his neck, nipping his ear, "Exactly like I said. Beautiful."

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's back, pulling him closer. "That may be, but I'm still sleep deprived. I need coffee to look pretty." Harry slid off him, leaning his head on his shoulder. Louis tapped a finger on the end of his nose. "I also need coffee to have the energy to do some very naughty things to you,"

The speed at which Harry hit the floor with was probably unprecedented. 

Louis watched him scurry into the hallway, his pale bum the last image he was left with.

If Louis became a ghost right now, he'd at least be a very happy one.

...

Louis wasn't sure how long he had spent browsing the newest installment of Niall and sports when he finally glanced up and noticed a shocked Harry stood in the doorway of his room, the Sunday paper crinkled in his hand.

"This...this is the article,"

"Yeah?" Louis set his phone to the side, meeting Harry's eyes.

"You—It's—“

"Harry, you need to spit it out love, I've got plans for you then we've got plans for brunch,"

But, Louis knew exactly what he had read. 

He stomped over to the bed, clamoring into Louis' lap. He gripped his shoulders, searching his eyes. 

"You love me?"

He held the open page up to Louis, pointing at the last paragraph. 

"I may not believe, but Harry's connecting with something on a level I'll never understand; be it a person, a place or just a feeling. He finds stories in places I'd never think to look, shares conversations with people that aren't really there yet he makes you feel like you can see, he can paint a picture with words, and these are just a few of the many things that makes him unique. Can he speak to ghosts? I don't know for sure, but what I do know is that somewhere along the way I fell in love with him. Or maybe I always was.”

Louis set his glasses down next to his phone, plucking the paper out of Harry's hands. He wrapped his own around Harry's, his heart stuttering in his chest. “Please tell me I’m not crazy, because I’m going to need to look into another profession,"

Harry surged forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, mumbling frantically, "Never. I love you too, _oh my god I love you_ ,"

Louis huffed out a laugh, settling his hands on Harry's hips, "So, declarations of love in the weekly paper get you hard. Noted,"

Harry ground his hips down, a half laugh half moan leaving his own lips, "You have no idea," 

Louis tipped his head back, taking in the image of Harry; flushed with his hair wild and untamed around his shoulders, his dick poking Louis in the stomach.

"What's going to happen if I propose to you?"

Harry groaned, "Oh fuck, don't even joke, I'll come on the spot."

Louis' reached up, rubbing a thumb along his jaw, his eyes soft. "I do love you, though."

"I love you too." His eyes glimmered. “Love at first sight, all those years ago.”

“It was for me too.” He pulled him down on top of him, whispering in his ear. "And I am going to marry your ghost talking ass one day."

“Yeah, yeah, how about you get in my ghost talking ass instead,”

Harry may have been unconvinced, but Louis had never been surer of anything.

*

**6 months later**

 

_["Thank you Styles for making me egg on toast every day.](http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lvqlrg6NfB1qchkw2.jpg) _

_Will you marry me?"_

Louis waited for the phone call he knew he’d be receiving in about five minutes.

"Well?"

"Yes _obviously_. And, for the record I did,"

"You did what?"

"Come on in the spot."

"I can't believe I'm going to marry you; a pervert and a ghost whisper,"

Harry's laugh tinkled through the phone.

"Hey, you know what one of the very first ghosts I ever met told me?"

Louis rolled his eyes fondly. "What's that, love?”

"That we'd get married,"

A shiver ran through Louis' body. 

"Lucky guess I'd say."

 

 

Or maybe he did believe after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> just watch this 
> 
> http://louisismighty.tumblr.com/post/138349973613/louis-harry-when-we-were-young-adele


End file.
